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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24670600">A Gentleman's Guide to Divorce &amp; Deceit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo'>Pigzxo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake Marriage, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:48:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24670600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Monty gets an unexpected text from his mother inviting both him and his husband to dinner. Monty, not wanting to tell her that he's recently divorced, ropes Percy into a family dinner where Percy must pretend to be Monty's hated ex-husband, Richard Peele.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monty wakes to a ringing in his ears that he’s not entirely sure is a consequence of the bar’s live band last night. He groans as he turns towards the alarm, fumbles with his phone, and shuts it off. He buries his face into his pillows to hide from the sunlight streaming in through the window.</p>
<p>            Not that he ever opens his curtains.</p>
<p>            The thought comes to him groggily, so slowly it barely fires off any other neurons. He shuts his eyes tight and tries to ignore his brain rattling around his skull. Bile rises in his throat, threatening his ability to pretend his tolerance is high enough that he’s never had a hangover.</p>
<p>            But if his alarm is going off, it must be a work day. He must have a shift, although he doesn’t remember being stupid enough to get blackout drunk when he has to get up early to go to the golf course. Not that intellect is necessarily his best attribute.</p>
<p>            He reaches for the phone again and when he opens one eye to look at it, he realizes it’s not his. It’s too large and the picture on the lock screen is of a sunset whereas his is him and Percy on their first night out as roommates. In that picture, Percy looks a little bit in love with him and Monty is far gone enough to keep that false hope on his phone, staring at him whenever he checks the time.</p>
<p>            So, the phone’s not his. And the open windows aren’t his. And if he opens his eyes just enough he can take in the grey-striped sheets that are most definitely not his.</p>
<p>            He lets out a breathy sigh and rolls away from the bedside table to see whatever warm body he ended up next to last night. A smooth expanse of brown skin meets him and Monty reaches out to touch between the man’s thin shoulder blades – because certainly it’s a him, what with the short curly hair and the broad back and the ribs poking out of his side.</p>
<p>            The man flinches and Monty draws his hand back.</p>
<p>            “Good morning, darling,” Monty drawls. His voice scrapes his throat and his breath smells little better than a pig sty but he puts on his most winning smile. He tries not to fall asleep in strangers’ beds – he never likes mornings after, the awkward dance out of the house, the insincere offers of breakfast – but he certainly has enough practice at it.</p>
<p>            “Did you turn off my alarm?” a gruff voice returns.</p>
<p>            Monty slings the phone – and, by necessity, his arm – over the man’s body and snuggles closer. His eyes are already shutting as the man takes the phone from him. The man doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers between his shoulder blades were flinch-worthy but an arm slung around his torso does little to sway him. Monty files that information away for… for nothing, really. He doesn’t intend to be in this man’s bed for much longer, even if he knows that standing up right now is likely to result in a lot of vomit and an even worse headache.</p>
<p>            But he really has to piss.</p>
<p>            “I have class,” the voice says and, after clearing his throat, he sounds familiar. The sound tickles something in the back of Monty’s mind but so much of him is still asleep and so much more of him is still drunk. The man moves his arm and gets off the bed, the mattress shifting under Monty. “I’ll get you some water.”</p>
<p>            Monty waves him off.</p>
<p>            “I can close the curtains too.”</p>
<p>            “Please.”</p>
<p>            And that’s when it hits Monty that there’s only one person in the world who would bother to take care of him while he’s in this state. He is not in some stranger’s bed. He’s in Percy’s. Odd that they’ve lived together for nearly three years now and he’s never really been in his room. Probably because they usually roll into his bed or fall asleep on the couch or never make it home at all.</p>
<p>            Monty blinks into the sunlight. “Did we…”</p>
<p>            Percy laughs. It’s oddly refreshing to be laughed at. Monty’s used to rampant indignation and screaming when he forgets where exactly he put his dick the night before. But Percy is Percy and he’s never gone to bed with anyone, as far as Monty knows.</p>
<p>            “Go back to sleep.”</p>
<p>            With a deafening ring of metal on metal, the blinds close and the room pitches into darkness. With a few footsteps and a gentle close of the door, Percy is gone and Monty is fast asleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Monty wakes some hours later and manages to pull himself out of Percy’s oversized comforter. It’s the only thing in the room that Monty wouldn’t consider the bare minimum. Percy’s desk is a piece of plywood balanced on concrete blocks. His laptop is a stone-aged thing that sounds like a washing machine when it boots up. And his wardrobe is a collection of boring button-ups and dark wash jeans.</p>
<p>            Monty wanders into the kitchen. He stares blearily at the note Percy left on the fridge until the unruly letters come into focus. <em>Left you a glass of water and some Advil. </em>Monty opens the door. A glass of water and some Advil sit in the fridge next to a half-empty bottle of wine and a loaf of bread. Wine isn’t really a morning drink, so Monty takes the water, the Advil, and the bread. Then he checks the time – 1:45 p.m. – and takes the wine too.</p>
<p>            As he waits for the toaster, he begins the search for his phone. He must have lost it along with most of his clothes – he woke in boxers and a threadbare t-shirt he’s pretty sure belongs to Percy. It’s a Monday – he knows because Monday is the only day that Percy has a morning class and the only day when Percy leaves for school before Monty leaves for work – and the whole weekend is a blur. Monty remembers wanting to go to a concert and a girl’s tongue down his throat and maybe, yes, an actual stranger’s bed. But that’s all. The last clear memory he has is Friday afternoon, when he popped a cork on a bottle of champagne.</p>
<p>            After the toaster pops and long after the toast’s gone cold, Monty finds his phone in the pocket of his jeans – jeans that somehow made it into his room without him. He wonders if he crawled into Percy’s bed after he had already gone to sleep alone, his drunken self so desperate to be wrapped around Percy that he had forgotten Monty’s only cardinal rule – Percy deserved better. Not that Monty usually cared much. He flirted and winked and made dirty jokes and came on to him so blatantly when he was barely in the drink that Percy has to know. And Percy chooses to stay away. So, Percy is off-limits.</p>
<p>            Monty scrolls past dozens of alerts as he walks back to the toaster. News blasts tell him things about parliament he doesn’t really care for and the university sent emails asking if he wants to reapply to his program. A few coworkers sent messages asking him to trade shifts – he doesn’t know why they think he’s a reliable cover but perhaps it’s because they are all degenerates just like him. As he takes a bite of cold toast, he pauses on a message from a contact titled: Mrs. Montague.</p>
<p>            So maybe he should have his mom under her first name or <em>mother </em>or even <em>mom</em>. But Mrs. Montague seemed more hurtful when he typed it, so he stuck with it. There are a stack of texts from her, five of them, but the top one simply says, <em>I’m sorry</em>.</p>
<p>            Monty keeps chewing. He sets his phone down, careful not to let the screen go black, and reaches for the wine. He takes a swig straight from the bottle and considers waiting for Percy to get home. It can’t be long now – he gets home around three most days, except Thursday, when he has a night class. He considers tossing his phone out the window and claiming he truly did lose it last night and now he needs a new number. He considers blocking his mom’s number.</p>
<p>            But the apology intrigues him, perhaps more than it should. It tugs at some part of his heart he’s sure he filled with cement years ago. When he sees his mom saying sorry, he feels like a little kid again. He feels like the kid with tears stinging in his eyes after his dad slapped him for kissing a boy on the playground. He feels like the small boy who crawled into his mother’s lap with broken fingers only to be met with the words, “You shouldn’t anger him like that.” He feels like the dumb kid who told his father to fuck off. The dumb kid who married his first boyfriend out of spite, just because he knew it was the one thing that would make his father cut him off for good.</p>
<p>            It’s been years but at least there are no bruises anymore. Monty touches his fingers to his ribs just to feel that they’re all there, all in one piece. He went away to college and he packed that part of his life away. And yet, seeing his mom apologize still makes him feel seventeen again, like a little boy scared for his life and scared for his mom and, more than anything else, pissed off at the world.</p>
<p>            Sometimes Monty forgets there was a time before he knew Percy. Percy is so much a part of his life now that he seems like he was at the start of it. And in a way, he was. Monty isn’t the boy who left his dad’s house anymore. He’s someone else entirely.</p>
<p>            He opens the texts from his mom. The first is entire paragraphs sprawling across the screen, a long-winded apology with every detail she can muster from his childhood. And while Monty skims over most of it, he gets the most important part: she left his father and she’s sorry. The second text is just as long, explaining that she knows she can’t put all the blame on his father and she wasn’t the best mother either. Monty skims that too.</p>
<p>            The third text hits him like a shockwave: <em>I’m sorry I missed your wedding.</em></p>
<p>            The fourth makes his heart sink: <em>I’d like to meet Richard, if you’ll let me.</em></p>
<p>            And then there’s the fifth, the final apology, the one that showed up on his screen.</p>
<p>            Monty sits down at the counter and goes back to the first message to read every word. His heart tugs in his chest as he reads what his mother went through and how much worse it was than what he went through. He has a baby brother now. Felicity got into Oxford. His mom took most of his father’s money in the divorce, as well as custody. She misses him. She’s always missed him.</p>
<p>            Monty feels a tear eke out and he swipes at his cheek. Without much thought behind the words, he types back, <em>I miss you, too.</em></p>
<p>            The reply is shockingly fast given that the first texts came through last night. She says, <em>When you’re done your semester, how about you and Richard come for dinner? I’d love to get to know your husband and see the life you’ve built together. I always knew you were stronger than me.</em></p>
<p>            Monty cries harder because he’s not stronger than her. He made a bad decision to spite his father and now he lives in a ground floor flat with bars on the windows and he barely makes his portion of the rent with the meagre salary he scrapes up at the pro shop. He lost the job he had at the bar – apparently he wasn’t allowed to drink on the job. A spark of anger pushes past the tears. He may have left but she didn’t help him, didn’t really help Felicity, either. She left for the baby.</p>
<p>            <em>Monty? </em>she prompts.</p>
<p>            <em>Yes, of course, </em>Monty replies.</p>
<p>            As he swigs the wine again, his alcohol-addled brain tries to figure out why his stomach just dropped into his feet. He looks at his mother’s invitation again and understands with a sudden clarity that coffee has never given him when he’s drunk. The champagne he popped on Friday – it was because the divorce papers came through.</p>
<p>            He and Richard are divorced.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monty’s kills the bottle. He knows, logically, he could text his mom back and tell her the truth. But what then? Does she really want to see her son, the drunk? The boy who dropped out of school because it was too hard, not because he ran out of money? Does she really want to see him struggle? Monty doesn’t know. She invited him and Richard. She invited a happy couple, a son she thinks made a good choice, a choice he wanted, and made a life. Could Monty tell her otherwise?</p>
<p>            When Percy returns home, Monty is still at the counter. He twirls the empty wine glass between his fingers. Percy slams the front door. “Rough day?” he asks.</p>
<p>            Monty is too stuck on his mom and his divorce to acknowledge the sarcasm lacing Percy’s words. He barely flinches when Percy drops a pizza on the counter and shoves it towards him. Monty reaches listlessly for a slice. He folds half of it into his mouth.</p>
<p>            “You have work in an hour.”</p>
<p>            “Maddie’s covering for me.”</p>
<p>            “Really?”</p>
<p>            Monty gives him a look. So he’s lied about having someone to cover for him before. It doesn’t mean he’s lying every time he says it. Percy stares back at him, unblinking. Monty slides his phone across the counter, challenging him. He feels more married to Percy than he ever did to Richard, especially in moments like these.</p>
<p>            “Percy,” Monty says, an idea suddenly coming to him.</p>
<p>            Percy hasn’t moved to take his phone. He leans back against the stove, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks tired – dark circles shadow his eyes and his hair is half out of its tie, his dark curls billowing around his thin face. “Monty,” he replies, his voice flat.</p>
<p>            “Do you want to come to dinner at my mom’s?”</p>
<p>            “Your…” Percy short circuits. His mouth hangs open and he takes an aborted step forward. After a moment, he purses his lips tightly and his fingers dance over the screen of Monty’s phone. He pulls his hand back. “Your mom called?”</p>
<p>            “Texted.” Monty feels an odd calm spread through his body. This he can do. He can tell Percy about his life and his mom without falling apart. “She left my dad and she’s… well, she’s invited me to have dinner with her and my sister and my… brother.”</p>
<p>            “Brother?”</p>
<p>            “Yes. Apparently he’s two.”</p>
<p>            Percy stares, wide-eyed. His gaze shifts to the empty wine bottle and then back to Monty. He steps closer and offers his hand over the counter. Monty stares at his outstretched fingers and hesitates. If Percy held his hand, Monty’s heart might explode. Or he would stop being able to see Percy without kissing him. And wouldn’t that be embarrassing? To maul a guy over a kitchen counter when he’s just trying to offer simple comfort? Monty shakes his head.</p>
<p>            Percy withdraws his hand. “Are you all right?”</p>
<p>            “Just dandy.” Monty forces a smile. “You’ll come?”</p>
<p>            “Of course.”</p>
<p>            “There is a catch.”</p>
<p>            Percy blinks, waiting.</p>
<p>            “You have to be Richard.”</p>
<p>            “Sorry?”</p>
<p>            “My mom invited me and my husband. So—”</p>
<p>            “So tell her you’re divorced.”</p>
<p>            Monty laughs. “Yes, why not tell my mom that while she was signing divorce papers, so was I? Why not tell my dear sweet mother that I am precisely the screw up that my father thought I was?”</p>
<p>            “She won’t think that.”</p>
<p>            “You don’t know her.” Monty’s not sure he knows her either. He always thought she was in on it with his father but now, he’s not sure what to think. His mother never offered him a kind word or a small comfort. She deferred to his father on all things but claims she was scared too. “She wants me married, happy, whole. She wants to see that leaving made me happy so she’ll know that she can be happy too. Without him.”</p>
<p>            Percy frowns and his whole face pulls down with it.</p>
<p>            “Please, Percy.” Monty hates how his voice breaks over the words. The tears are back and he blinks them out of his eyes. “It’s just one night.”</p>
<p>            “I fucking hate Richard Peele.”</p>
<p>            “We hate Richard Peele!” Monty screams.</p>
<p>            Percy laughs.</p>
<p>            “Please.” Monty smiles. He can’t help himself. Percy is a whole new kind of beautiful when he laughs. And Monty thinks, even if that’s all he ever gets from him, even if Percy marries some nice girl and has five brats, he wants to be the person who makes him laugh. “Won’t you marry me?”</p>
<p>            Percy’s laughter tapers off and there’s something in his eyes, something soft and sad, that hits Monty right in the gut. Percy nods. “All right.” He turns towards the pizza. “It’s just for one night, after all. Not the rest of my life.”</p>
<p>            It should be a joke. It is a joke. But it hurts.</p>
<p>            Monty laughs it off. “That’s the spirit.” Their fingers brush over the pizza and Monty flinches back, too fast. He ignores the look Percy gives to the top of his head and goes for a different slice. The pizza grease sops up the last of the wine and Percy turns on the TV and Monty tries to forget that Percy would never marry him for real.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monty taps his feet against the dashboard as Percy drives through the winding cul-de-sacs. His mom must have fleeced his father in the divorce because the neighbourhood is all black gates, high stone walls, and guards with blank faces. Maybe it’s not the luxury but the safety she’s after. Monty thinks of the bars on his own bedroom window and how, rather than scaring him away like the landlord expected, they drew him in.</p>
<p>            Every time Percy stops at a new gate, Monty makes sure to lean towards him. Nice neighbourhoods and boys with brown skin don’t go together well in their city. And yet Percy never flinches, never fails to give a big smile and chat for a few moments before rolling forward. They looped through the neighbourhood three times already. Monty itches for a cigarette and rolls down the window to let in the crisp night air.</p>
<p>            “What’s your family know about Richard, anyways?” Percy hides a yawn. Monty can tell by the way his jaw shifts to the side and the words come out breathless. The drive was four hours and now this maze. They’re already late.</p>
<p>            “Nothing.” Monty shrugs. “I think I put in the wedding invitation that he was a banker. And gorgeous. And the love of my life.” He shoots Percy a wide smirk. “Think you can pull that off?”</p>
<p>            A smile tugs at Percy’s lips. “I can pretend.”</p>
<p>            “Good.” Monty’s mind wanders back to the letter he sent with the wedding invitation. He meant it to hurt, to make it seem like his life was going well. And, he supposes, his life was going well then. He had a fiancé and half a degree and a nice place to live. Forget that he hated his fiancé. Richard was a guy willing to fuck a guy and that was all Monty needed. “I definitely wrote a whole paragraph on our sex life” – Percy groans – “but I doubt my father let my mom read that.”</p>
<p>            Monty glances in Percy’s direction and watches his knuckles go white against the steering wheel. He says, “I’m sure my mom won’t question our sex life.”</p>
<p>            Percy shakes his head, his jaw tense.</p>
<p>            Monty pokes him in the ribs.</p>
<p>            Percy, ever a jack of all trades, manages not to crash the car as he flinches.</p>
<p>            “What’s the problem?”</p>
<p>            “It’s just…” Percy lets out an aborted sigh and chews on his bottom lip. He looks towards the houses on his side of the road, squinting at the numbers. The car slows. He shakes his head. “It’s not important. Is there anything else they know about Richard?”</p>
<p>            “We got engaged after three weeks of dating and met while he was working on a project in the library with my roommate.”</p>
<p>            Percy groans again. “Don’t remind me.”</p>
<p>            “Look, I know we all hate Richard Peele, but you’re being a tad dramatic.”</p>
<p>            Percy waves him off.</p>
<p>            Monty decides now is not the time to push Percy on his arguably justified hatred of his ex-husband. After all, Monty and Richard never got along anywhere other than in the sack. There was a lot of shouting on both sides and a lot of insults. Richard told Monty’s father about him before the wedding invitations even went out. At that point, Monty was still trying to be straight for the sake of his father’s money. And after that, Richard’s money was enough.</p>
<p>            Monty tries to think of what else his mom would know about Richard. He barely said a word about him in the letter. It was mostly thinly veiled jabs at his father. “That’s it,” he says with some confidence. “That’s all you need.”</p>
<p>            “Good.” Percy turns the car into a lit driveway and cuts the engine. He checks the time and curses under his breath. “We’re late.”</p>
<p>            “It’s always good to be fashionably late, Perce.” Monty forces cheer into his voice as he leaps out of the car. He buries all his nervousness and sickness and dread under layers of false confidence. He has enough practice at it, from years under his father’s thumb and now customer service too. He bounds up to the front door and rings the bell.</p>
<p>            Percy stands on the step behind him, his hands folded behind his back, as prim and proper as always. Monty reaches back a hand to him as he hears footsteps coming down the hall. With a sigh, Percy threads their fingers together.</p>
<p>            Monty jolts at the sensation and his smile relaxes from forced to genuine. Butterflies stir in his stomach. <em>It’s a ruse, </em>he reminds his fluttering heart.</p>
<p>            The door swings open. Felicity stands on the threshold, a book bent in one hand and her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She looks so different than Monty remembers and also exactly the same. She always held a book but now, instead of a trashy romance novel, her book is a medical treatise from the late 1700s. Her glasses used to be an alone-only accessory but now she wears them to answer the door. And, most surprisingly of all, she wears jeans. Monty always thought his mom hated girls in pants. Apparently not.</p>
<p>            “Felicity,” he says. He tugs Percy up a step.</p>
<p>            “Monty.” She glances up from the book momentarily, entirely disinterested, and Monty is almost happy to have his contrary sister back in his life. Then she does a double take and bursts into tears.</p>
<p>            Monty startles and glances at Percy.</p>
<p>            Percy steps forward and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. When she shrugs him off, he offers a tissue from his coat pocket which she takes. He glances back at Monty who shrugs helplessly. Felicity’s not a crier. But maybe that’s changed too.</p>
<p>            She blows her nose heavily and then tosses the tissue into a wastebasket by the door. She controls herself admirably as she dog-ears a page and sets down the book. When she looks back at Monty, her face isn’t even red. “Apologies,” she says. “I just…” She looks Monty up and down. “You look so different.”</p>
<p>            Monty doesn’t understand her for a moment. He is the same man who left his father’s house – short and stocky, a mop of blonde hair, and a mischievous grin. But then the realization surfaces. Felicity is used to seeing him covered in bruises, standing lopsided, and limping. Felicity knows a broken boy who wheezes when he breathes, not someone a little sleep-deprived with a drinking problem.</p>
<p>Well, she knows about the drinking problem.</p>
<p>            “Right, well.” Monty pauses. Words don’t seem sufficient for what has just passed between them. “This is my husband, Richard.” He throws the limelight on Percy, who does not appreciate being kicked under the bus.</p>
<p>            Felicity offers her hand which Percy begins to shake before she dips into a deep curtsy. Monty and Percy focused on what his family knew about Richard. Monty realizes he forgot to tell Percy his family is a little old-fashioned. And a lot batshit insane.</p>
<p>            “Mom’s in the kitchen.” Felicity has her nose in the book again as she walks away.</p>
<p>            “I suppose we have to guess where the kitchen is,” Monty mumbles with the edge of a smile. He wants to look at Percy and he also can’t. He knows from the eyes on the side of his face that Percy too has realized what made Felicity cry. Percy never saw the full extent of the damage but his cauliflower ear tells enough of the story.</p>
<p>            Monty starts forward. To his surprise, Percy wraps his hand around his again. Monty nearly trips over the change in the floorboards but recovers admirably. The house is massive and as much of a maze as the streets outside it. Wood paneling covers the walls. The hardwood makes their steps echo at every turn. A grand staircase sits in the centre, gold and gleaming, and, eventually, taunting as Monty and Percy run into it for the third time.</p>
<p>            Finally, they reach the kitchen. Unlike the rest of the dark, imposing house, the kitchen is bright. The cabinets are yellow and the linoleum floor looks stolen from a trailer park. Monty’s mom stands with her back to them as she fusses over something on the stove.</p>
<p>            Monty stops to watch her for a second. She hums as she stirs. Monty can’t remember her making a sound in their old house. Her hips sway to the beat of the music. Monty remembers a still woman, a quiet thing who barely existed beyond the space she took up. Without seeing her face, Monty can tell she’s happy. At least he can still do that. He could always look at the back of her head and tell she was smiling. It was so rare that he learned to feel it rather than see it.</p>
<p>            “Hi, mom,” he says. He feels Percy shy away from him as she turns.</p>
<p>            She, too, bursts into tears. And, this time, Monty can’t stop himself from reciprocating as she rushes forward to wrap him in her arms. She hugs like a fragile thing, like not only will she break him but she’ll most likely shatter herself too. Monty holds on tight and closes his eyes as he breathes in the smell of her. She smells like flour and perfume and the flowers she used to grow in the back garden.</p>
<p>            “Monty,” she says as she pulls away, tears still glittering in her eyes. “And this must be your husband, Richard.”</p>
<p>            Percy smiles and offers his hand. His mom, at least, does shake.</p>
<p>            “Yes, my darling husband, Richard.” Monty slips into the role of entertainer as he moves past his mom and towards the pot bubbling on the stove. He stirs it once, then brings the spoon to his lips. He tries not to sputter as he swallows. “That’s… umm… lovely, mom.”</p>
<p>            She frowns at him and tastes it herself. “A little spicy, perhaps.”</p>
<p>            “Perhaps.” Monty meets Percy’s eyes and shakes his head while gritting his teeth. Percy muffles a laugh.</p>
<p>            “So, you two met through your roommate, Monty?” she asks.</p>
<p>            “Yes, my roommate, Percy.” Monty winks and Percy rolls his eyes. “I would have married him but he is afflicted with a terrible disease.” Percy flinches so Monty cuts his dramatic pause in half to stage whisper, “Heterosexuality.”</p>
<p>            His mom gives him a look. Felicity snorts from somewhere nearby. Percy says, “Don’t go casting aspersions.”</p>
<p>            “Is it an aspersion if it’s true?”</p>
<p>            “It’s not true.”</p>
<p>            Monty raises both his eyebrows, eyes wide, and Percy quickly looks away. Confusion flutters through Monty and his certainty falters. Before he has a chance to question it, his mom says, “I don’t need to know about your old roommate, Monty. Tell me about your life now. Have you two bought a home yet? Where are you working?”</p>
<p>            “At a bank,” Percy replies, too quickly.</p>
<p>            “Which bank?”</p>
<p>            “The…” Percy blanks and panic overtakes his features.</p>
<p>            Felicity enters from the dining room and leans against the door frame. “Certainly a banker can name a bank,” she says. Her book is gone, as are her glasses. Monty looks uncomfortably from her to his mom still at the stove with her back to the room, to Percy who’s stranded in the middle of the kitchen. Felicity smiles prettily at him. “Especially the one where you work.”</p>
<p>            “He works at HSBC.” Monty shakes his head at her, hoping his exasperation will catch her anger before their ruse catches her curiosity. “Honestly, Felicity, can you not give a man a break when meeting his husband’s family for the first time?”</p>
<p>            She shoots him a glare. “Certainly. Although, the Peele’s are shareholders in the Royal Bank of Scotland, are they not?”</p>
<p>            Monty stares at her. He has no idea if that’s a carefully laid trap or a random sentence she’s pulled out of her ass. He certainly has no idea what bank his ex-husband’s family invests in.</p>
<p>            “Nepotism is frowned upon in my family.” Percy manages a smile. “What book were you reading?”</p>
<p>            And with that flawless transition, Percy and Felicity exit the room jabbering about medical science. Monty lets out a relieved sigh as his mom hums beside him. He slumps back against the counter, letting the tension ebb out of his shoulders. Ten minutes in and Felicity’s already suspicious.</p>
<p>            “Your father would hate him,” his mom says suddenly.</p>
<p>            Monty casts his eyes her way. “Good thing we’re done with him.”</p>
<p>            She looks up at him a little too quickly, startled. It takes her a second to realize what she’s said. “Oh,” she whispers. She shakes herself and then nods. “Of course. I… forgive me.”</p>
<p>            Monty stares at his mother for a little too long and then squeezes her hand. He remembers this, these first moments of freedom that felt so fleeting, the assumption that it would all crash down at any moment. Monty kisses her knuckles. “We’re safe now,” he says.</p>
<p>            He even believes it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They sit down to dinner without another slip-up. Monty sits next to Percy and his mom and sister sit across from them. The head of the table is empty of even a chair. His mom bows her head to say grace and Monty is once again forced to take Percy’s hand without jumping him afterwards. He gets used to the softness of Percy’s skin and the strength of his fingers. As his mom prays, he wonders what those fingers might do elsewhere, where else their grip may come in handy.</p>
<p>            “Amen.”</p>
<p>            “Amen,” Monty chokes out. He ignores the looks he gets from Felicity and Percy.</p>
<p>            They dig in, cutlery clattering and lips smacking. Monty hopes silent family dinners are not a thing of the past. That way, he and Percy can eat, and then slip out before after dinner drinks and be on their way with no one the wiser. The thought of missing a free drink pains Monty but it will be better not to drag this out.</p>
<p>            Percy, however, finds conversation in the most benign things. He mentions a greenhouse they passed earlier. Did they pass a greenhouse? Monty can’t remember. He half-listens to his mom recount how to take care of geraniums while he sips his water. “Do you have any wine?” he asks, halfway through his mom’s sentence.</p>
<p>            She blinks at him. “No.”</p>
<p>            “It’s a dry house.” Felicity kicks him under the table.</p>
<p>            Monty shoots her a glare. “Since when are we a dry family?”</p>
<p>            “Since now.” His mom’s voice brooks no argument. He forgot she did that – laid down two words like they’re law. She smiles to soften the order. “I have some juice, if you want.”</p>
<p>            Monty stares at her for a second, wondering if this is some grand joke at his expense, and then shakes his head. “Water’s fine.” <em>Where’s Jesus when you need him?</em></p>
<p>            Percy shoots him a concerned look. Monty guesses his mom and Felicity think the drinking was because of his father. He supposes it was. And now it isn’t. Now, it’s about the way his blood buzzes when he doesn’t have a drink. Now, it’s about how sweaty and sick he gets without it, how he can barely get through a full night’s sleep without a glass of whiskey on the bedside table.</p>
<p>            Monty meets Percy’s eyes and shakes his head. He can last a night without liquor. He thinks.</p>
<p>            “Tell me about the wedding,” his mom says. “I wish I could have been there.”</p>
<p>            Monty relaxes. This he’s prepared for. He launches into a description of a grand wedding that he certainly did not have. Richard’s dad was no happier than his own to find his son marrying a man. They had no money to do it up right. It was a short courthouse ceremony with two strangers acting as their witnesses because Percy refused to take part. But Monty describes a lovely orchard with cherry blossoms overhanging the walkway. He makes Percy give him away – Percy opens his mouth to protest then shuts it abruptly when he remembers that, tonight, he’s Richard – and gives himself a white suit. “Even though I was far from a virgin bride.” He winks. Felicity chokes on her chicken.</p>
<p>            “And the reception?” his mom prompts.</p>
<p>            “We had tents on the lawn,” Monty says. The fantasy spins from his lips like cotton candy. He imagines the fairy lights in the setting sun, the wedding party in pastels, and girls with flowers in their hair. “Our first dance was to an Ed Sheeran song. The band played ukuleles. Weird, right? But Richard wanted it.” Monty shrugs.</p>
<p>            “Ukuleles?” Felicity echoes, looking at Percy.</p>
<p>            Percy shrugs. He has gone a fantastic shade of red and taken to knotting the edge of the table cloth between his fingers. “I like ukuleles,” he mumbles.</p>
<p>            “As the party wound down, we snuck away from the tents and down to the cliffside. Richard worried about getting grass stains on our suits but I sat down in the grass anyways, dangling my feet into the empty air.” Monty looks just past Felicity’s shoulder, at a painting of a boat behind her. He hopes he looks as far away as he feels. “We made love in the moonlight.”</p>
<p>            Percy chokes.</p>
<p>            “Ew,” Felicity says.</p>
<p>            His mom clears her throat. “Well. That all sounds very romantic.”</p>
<p>            “It was.” Monty turns his head to smile at Percy who is very decidedly not looking at him. Monty’s face falls but he forces his smile back on and looks to Felicity and his mom. “So, is there dessert?”</p>
<p>            Felicity and his mom stand to clear the table. Percy scrambles to stand with them and insists on helping as they insist he sit back down. Monty rests his feet on Felicity’s vacated seat. His toes barely reach and the position is quite uncomfortable. He sticks to it just to bother her. His mom successfully shoos Percy back to his seat.</p>
<p>            A clatter comes from the kitchen but the dining room remains quiet. Monty rests his head against the chair and rolls his chin towards Percy. “Did you like our wedding, darling?” he whispers.</p>
<p>            “It’s fine.” Percy’s voice sounds tight.</p>
<p>            Monty frowns. “Out with it, then.”</p>
<p>            “Sorry?”</p>
<p>            “How have I managed to piss you off now?”</p>
<p>            “I just… hate Richard Peele.”</p>
<p>            Monty blinks. “You know we didn’t have that wedding, right? You remember me begging you to come to the courthouse? And you told me the whole thing was such a bad idea that you would rather use your physics textbook to bludgeon yourself to death than come see me married?”</p>
<p>            Percy hums. “I don’t believe that’s what I said.”</p>
<p>            “I’m paraphrasing.”</p>
<p>            No response.</p>
<p>            Monty moves his gaze off of Percy and towards the painted sea and the small boat near-capsized by the waves. He doesn’t remember that painting from his father’s house which means his mom must have purchased it herself. The boat looks lonely, small and weak. He wonders why she would choose to remind herself of weakness.</p>
<p>            “The cliffside,” Percy says after a moment.</p>
<p>            Monty glances his way but doesn’t turn his head, afraid to spook him.</p>
<p>            Percy’s eyes stare at his clasped hands. He has both feet on the ground, his back ramrod straight. By comparison, Monty lounges on his chair, one hand on the table, probably looking a proper mess. He can feel himself sweating. Percy, however, is the picture of poise. He has even managed to brush his hair into submission.</p>
<p>            “The cliffside?” Monty repeats.</p>
<p>            “We did that.”</p>
<p>            Monty raises an eyebrow. He glances towards the kitchen, where the clattering has subsided but he hears no footsteps. “We went to a cliffside,” he concedes. It is a struggle to keep his voice light, bemused. His heart pounds in his chest. He can’t imagine why Percy would remember the night they met. They did four shots each at the campus bar before wandering to the edge of the world. Monty remembers seeing a beautiful boy beside him, being so drunk he finally felt happy, and knowing that, one day, he would love this man so much it hurt. Points for wishful thinking. “I don’t remember making love under the stars but, please, regale me.”</p>
<p>            Percy shakes his head.</p>
<p>            And, though Monty wants to push him, the women return just then with a trifle, bowls, and forks. Monty digs into the chocolate, hoping the dopamine can replace the alcohol his body craves. No luck, but at least it leaves him full and his sweet tooth satisfied. Percy transitions easily enough from the nervous, blushing boy he was seconds ago to the polite, confident man his family thinks he married.</p>
<p>            They end up chatting around the table for far longer than Monty likes. He itches for a drink. His skin is on fire with it. Twice now, he’s nearly tripped up and called Percy by his name. He closes his eyes as Felicity launches into yet another argument about preventative treatment and Percy encourages her.</p>
<p>            His mom leaves the table to wash the dishes and Monty follows after, if only to get away from Felicity. He forgot how annoying she is. He never will again.</p>
<p>            As his mom fills the sink with soapy water, Monty pushes himself up to sit on the counter, his legs swinging in the open air. His mom smiles to herself, secretly. Monty watches her for a moment, then says, “What?”</p>
<p>            She shrugs. “I’m proud of you.”</p>
<p>            A burst of affection floods through Monty, so strong he almost topples over. He forces himself to cock an eyebrow instead. After all, he’s not about to start being sappy just because his father’s gone. “Why?”</p>
<p>            “I thought…” She pauses as if thinking through her words. She rinses off a dish and steam rising from the sink. As she sets it aside, she continues, “I thought maybe you got married just to bother your father. Or to show him he didn’t own you. But… I see you with Richard and I see that you’re happy. And that you married for love.” She swallows hard and Monty sees her blink back tears. “I’m so very glad that, even without any good role models, you managed to find a husband who loves you as much as you so clearly love him.”</p>
<p>            “I…” Monty’s brain short circuits. He supposes he won. He tricked his mom into believing he and Percy love each other. “Sorry?”</p>
<p>            “The way you look at each other, so full of affection… and he still blushes when you touch his hand. You’re very sweet together.”</p>
<p>            “I… we’re…” Monty bites his tongue to stop the words <em>we’re not together </em>from leaving his lips. He thinks over the evening, tries to see what his mom does. But he can’t. He sees Percy annoyed that he’s built a fictional fantasy life with Richard and worried about his drinking and awkward due to the whole pretending-to-be-his-ex-husband thing. He doesn’t see romance.</p>
<p>            “He’s a lovely man.” She reaches out a soapy hand and squeezes Monty’s fingers. “I’m so happy for you.”</p>
<p>            “We’re having problems in the bedroom,” Monty blurts. He has no idea why he says it. Maybe because he needs his mom to stop looking at him like she <em>knows </em>something. She suddenly seems a lot like the moms in teen dramas who know their daughter’s best friend is more than that with a single look. At Monty’s words, his mom withdraws her hand and looks away. Thank God. “I mean, he’s… Richard’s great. I love Richard. It’s just…” Monty has no idea where he’s going with this. Is there anywhere to go?</p>
<p>            Percy saves him. Thank God for Percy.</p>
<p>            Percy strolls into the kitchen, his jacket half on, and says, “We should get going, Monty.”</p>
<p>            “Yes.” Monty leaps off the counter as if it suddenly electrocuted him. Percy gives him an odd look, which he ignores. He turns towards his mom with a wide smile. “Lovely to see you, mother. We’ll… keep in touch.”</p>
<p>            “No, wait. You can’t go.” His mom frantically wipes her hands on a dish towel and turns to both of them. “It’s nearly nine. You won’t get home until well after midnight.”</p>
<p>            “We’re night owls,” Monty insists. He sees the train coming before it hits and knows his words won’t move him off the tracks.</p>
<p>            “Nonsense. You’re staying here. I won’t have my sons on the road that late.”</p>
<p>            <em>Sons</em>. Monty wonders if this is hell. Did he die on the way here? Or was it over the weekend, somewhere in the blackness he can’t remember?</p>
<p>            “That’s a lovely offer, ma’am, but I’m afraid we can’t accept.” Percy smiles, the picture perfect son-in-law. Monty puts all his eggs in his basket. “We couldn’t inconvenience you like that.”</p>
<p>            Fuck Percy and his British fucking manners. <em>We can’t stay because I have classes in the morning</em>. A good excuse. <em>Monty has work in the morning</em>. A fine excuse. <em>We have couples counselling tomorrow and need to finish the worksheets. </em>Complete bullshit but still likely to get his mom off their backs. <em>Inconvenience you? </em>Monty is sure Percy registers the glare he shoots him, he just doesn’t flinch.</p>
<p>            “Nonsense,” his mom repeats. “Felicity, will you make up the guest room?”</p>
<p>            Felicity nods and is off without complaint. Monty watches after her, wondering why she’s not complaining, and she looks back at him with a wild smirk. Oh. Well. Fuck her, too.</p>
<p>            “Certainly we can’t stay in the same room,” Monty scrambles.</p>
<p>            “Why not?”</p>
<p>            “Because… we’re…” Monty hates that every romantic comedy in the world deals with fake dating and fake engagements and not fake marriages. Even if his mother is disinclined to let an engaged couple sleep in the same room, they’re married. “Gay?” Monty tries.</p>
<p>            She laughs and wraps him in another delicate hug. Monty deflates against her chest.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monty procrastinates in the bathroom for as long as he possibly can without seeming like he’s shitting his brains out. Then he wanders into the guest bedroom to find Percy laying blankets on the floor.</p><p>            “What are you doing?”</p><p>            “Sleeping on the floor?” Percy says.</p><p>            Even though Monty entirely understands the urge, he laughs. Only a couple of days ago, they woke up hungover and half-dressed in bed together. And tonight, because they’re sober – and he’s sweating from withdrawal and looks half dead from a fever – Percy wants to sleep on the floor.</p><p>            “Don’t be daft.” Monty grabs the blanket out of Percy’s hand. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”</p><p>            “It’s your mom’s house.” Percy grips the blanket and won’t let go.</p><p>            Monty tugs on it. “Then you’re the guest. Hence, you get the guest bed.”</p><p>            Percy tugs back. “You’re sick.”</p><p>            “So are you.” Monty rips the blanket from Percy’s grasp and throws it onto the bed. He crosses his arms. “We’ll share.”</p><p>            Percy looks at his feet. He seems smaller in his pyjamas. The neat blue and white lines make him thinner, darker. His feet are bare against the wood floors. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”</p><p>            “Why?” Something about the ridiculousness of the situation and his unrequited feelings and Percy’s stupidity makes him angry. “Are you afraid I’ll try something now that I know you’re gay?”</p><p>            “Monty.”</p><p>            “Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>            “You were married!”</p><p>            “I…” Monty shakes his head. “Sorry. What does me being married have to do with your sexuality?”</p><p>            “I just… hate Richard.”</p><p>            “I knew you for two years before I knew Richard fucking Peele!”</p><p>            Percy shushes him. He takes a step towards Monty, as if the two feet in between them is the reason he shouted. “We have bigger issues right now, Monty,” he hisses.</p><p>            Monty shrugs. “What bigger issues? We’re stuck in this bedroom for the night, just you and me. So why not tell me why you’re so upset that I didn’t know you were queer—”</p><p>            “Please, you chew out anyone who thinks you’re straight.”</p><p>            “—and you don’t want to sleep in the same bed—”</p><p>            “We’re not married!”</p><p>            “—and I made up a wedding for us—”</p><p>            “Did you want that with Richard?”</p><p>            Monty stops abruptly. “What?”</p><p>            Percy opens his mouth and then abruptly shuts it. He turns away, shaking his head, muttering for Monty to just leave it alone.</p><p>            Monty is so confused he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. He stands in a pile of blankets and watches Percy pace away from him. He could go curl up in the bed and ignore the argument, but he hasn’t gone to sleep before midnight since he lived with his parents. “Percy—”</p><p>            “Why does it matter?”</p><p>            “Why does what matter?” The conversation is so convoluted that Monty can’t follow Percy’s train of thought. Normally, he prides himself on being able to understand Percy. Tonight, he has no idea what’s going on in that beautiful head of his.</p><p>            “My sexuality.” Percy spits the words as he paces in slow circles. “Like… what? If you knew, you would have hit on me?”</p><p>            “I have been hitting on you!” Monty says the words before he can think better of them. But also, if Percy doesn’t know, Percy is more of an idiot than Monty gives him credit for. What does he think all the winks were? Why does he think Monty tumbles into bed with him so much? Or flinches whenever they touch? Monty has never hid the way he feels for Percy.</p><p>            And yet, Percy stops at the words, his eyes wide and shocked as he looks at Monty. Monty wonders if he has been too subtle. Or maybe he’s been too slutty and Percy doesn’t know the difference between everyday Monty and hopelessly-in-love Monty. Percy’s eyes skitter from Monty’s eyes to Monty’s lips and then flicker back up so quickly it’s like it never happened.</p><p>            Monty takes a cautious step forward, watching Percy’s eyes. Percy can’t keep his eyes off of Monty’s lips. Taking a deep breath, Monty leans forward and presses their lips together. He means it to be nothing. A peck, something he can laugh off as a joke if he read it wrong. But Percy places a hand on the back of his neck and pulls him in, kissing him hard. Monty forgets how to breathe. He backs Percy into the wall so he has something to lean on when his knees give out. He kisses him until he’s breathless.</p><p>            “Wait,” Percy whispers.</p><p>            Monty gasps for air. He can feel Percy’s warmth against him, his hands in his hair, all of him pressed against all of him. He wishes they had done this that first night on the cliffside. And he thanks his lucky stars that they didn’t because, maybe if they had, they wouldn’t end up here.</p><p>            “Is this…”</p><p>            Monty’s mid is addled with the lack of liquor and the taste of Percy’s tongue. He settles their foreheads together, lets Percy’s warm breath wash over him. “Is this what?” he asks, his voice rough from his budding arousal.</p><p>            Percy’s breath hitches.</p><p>            Monty tilts his head just enough to look Percy in the eyes and sees brimming fear, wide-eyed shock, and something desperate that he’s never associated with Percy before. But that desperation, Monty knows it all too well. “You’re not Richard,” he says.</p><p>            Percy stiffens under him. “Right.”</p><p>            “I just mean—”</p><p>            “I get it.” Percy places a hand on his chest and gently pushes him back. He walks around him, grabs the blanket off the bed, and goes back to making his fort on the floor.</p><p>Monty stares, the silence gutting him. He knows he said something wrong but he can’t think of what. Does Percy want to be Richard? A far too serious fling that went sour? Or does Percy simply not want to be more than Richard? The thought swirls through Monty’s mind like a broken record. Slowly, he moves towards the bed and crawls under the covers. His thoughts hurricane through his brain, making sleep elusive.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            When Monty wakes, Percy is already gone. His head pounds and he wonders why he would ever stay sober if not drinking still gives him a hangover. His stomach rolls as he stumbles to his feet. He swallows the bile in his throat. When he opens the door, he has to step back abruptly to avoid colliding with Felicity.</p>
<p>            Felicity crosses her arms, not the least bit startled. “Good morning.”</p>
<p>            “Morning,” Monty says through a yawn.</p>
<p>            “Is everything all right with you and Richard?”</p>
<p>            “Fine.” The word comes out sharper than Monty intends. He can still feel Percy’s lips on his, his hands cupping his cheeks. He fell asleep with his lips tingling and his heart hollow. Despite Percy not wanting anything serious, Monty wishes he had coaxed him into bed, kissed him quiet, and slowly taken him apart. “Why wouldn’t we be?”</p>
<p>            “Well, you spent the whole night arguing over Percy’s sexuality.”</p>
<p>             “Were you eavesdropping?”</p>
<p>            Felicity purses her lips. “I don’t think it’s eavesdropping if you’re shouting.”</p>
<p>            “We weren’t shouting.” At least, Monty doesn’t remember shouting past the first time. He could be wrong. The evening’s conversation has taken a backseat to the kiss in his memory. Monty remembers every movement of Percy’s lips, every touch of his fingers, and the way he arched against him. He remembers Percy’s warmth and his Minty breath. He remembers his thigh pressed between his legs and the mounting heat in his belly.</p>
<p>            “What are you hiding?”</p>
<p>            Monty snaps back to attention. His knees wobble. He wipes his hair off his forehead and sweat sticks to his palm. “Nothing. Would you get out of my face?”</p>
<p>            She raises her hands in mock surrender and steps aside. Monty walks past her and down the staircase, leaning heavily on the railing.</p>
<p>            In the kitchen, Percy and his mom stand and eat cereal. They laugh as he enters and makes a beeline for the coffee maker.</p>
<p>            “Good morning, honey,” his mom says.</p>
<p>            Monty smiles at her and says nothing to Percy. He knows it’s a mistake – they’re a happy couple and all – but he’s afraid of what Percy’s face will reveal. They kissed. Monty only knows that he desperately wants to do it again and that it’s off the table now. He starts to sip his coffee black, even as Percy sets the carton of cream down by his hand.</p>
<p>            Percy makes his excuses and ducks out of the room. Once he’s gone, Monty grimaces and dumps enough cream into his coffee to make it white. He feels his mom’s eyes on the top of his head. She clears her throat. “Breakfast?”</p>
<p>            Monty shakes his head. The coffee makes his stomach turn. He can’t keep down a bowl of cereal, much less anything else.</p>
<p>            “Is everything all right?”</p>
<p>            “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Monty snaps just as Felicity enters the kitchen. She snorts. He says, “Oh, shut up.”</p>
<p>            His mom looks at the ground and Monty feels a stab of guilt. He knows he looks like his father –his father had enough old pictures of himself in the house – and his temper is another ugly genetic side effect. He reaches out a hand and she takes it, squeezing tightly.</p>
<p>            “We heard an argument is all, dear.” She sets down her cereal bowl and wraps both her hands around his one. “And we want you to be happy. Last night, I thought you were and now… we just don’t know.”</p>
<p>            “It’s fine.”</p>
<p>            “Seems like he’s jealous of Percy.” Felicity sips her coffee with her eyes down, trying to hide that she’s fishing for gossip. It’s so unlike her to care but so very like her to hang around just to stir shit.</p>
<p>            Monty rolls his eyes. “He never believed that nothing happened between me and Percy.” At least that was the truth. Richard always had a problem with Percy. Monty found it annoying at the time – after all, it wasn’t like either of them was very faithful but <em>Percy</em>, who he never touched, was somehow the problem – but now he understood it. Maybe Percy is too dense to understand he’s head over heels in love with him, but Richard got it. “And then last night I reminded him Percy introduced us and it got him all heated all over again.”</p>
<p>            “Doesn’t seem like much of a fight,” Felicity says. Her eyes flicker to a book she left on the counter, already losing interest. Good. “After all, nothing happened.”</p>
<p>            His mom eyes him warily. “Did nothing happen?”</p>
<p>            Monty pauses to sip his coffee, considering his options. He wants to leave the conversation as quickly as possible and get home to his alcohol. Yes, it’s nine in the morning, but he hasn’t had a drink in seventeen hours. He doesn’t remember the argument being that bad – a little heated, yes, but he considers that the fault of their sexual tension and the aborted kiss. Monty winces.</p>
<p>            “Look, I’ve known Percy for a very long time,” Monty begins. He studies his mom and Felicity’s expressions. His mom he’s not too worried about. She will drop it. Felicity, on the other hand, has her toes on his heels. He just doesn’t know what she knows. So it may be better to give her something else to chase. “I slept with Percy once. <em>Way </em>before I knew Richard.”</p>
<p>            Percy chokes from around a corner somewhere and does an admirable job turning it into a coughing fit as he enters the kitchen. He’s red as a tomato. “Are you ready to go?” he asks, forcing calm.</p>
<p>            Monty loves his timing. He drops a bomb and Percy walks in like the Secret Service to pull him to safety. Monty turns to his mom with a smile and wraps her up in a hug. He pats Felicity on the shoulder and she scowls at him. He and Percy are ushered to the door in a barrage of well wishes and, when the door shuts behind them, Monty lets out an audible sigh.</p>
<p>            “Thank god that’s over,” he says.</p>
<p>            Percy hums in response, already several steps ahead.</p>
<p>            Monty slides into the passenger seat seconds after Percy gets in the car, but the engine is already running and the radio is on. As soon as he closes the door, Percy pulls out. Monty scrambles for his seatbelt.</p>
<p>            “What’s wrong with you?” he asks.</p>
<p>            “Nothing.”</p>
<p>            “Nothing?” Monty repeats, incredulous.</p>
<p>            Percy shrugs.</p>
<p>            Monty considers apologizing for the kiss and then decides that’s ridiculous. It was just a kiss. Sure, Percy doesn’t kiss a lot of people, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand the <em>concept </em>of a kiss. It’s not like he’s <em>never </em>been kissed. And Monty is a good kisser. He refuses to apologize for what had to be, objectively, the best kiss of Percy’s life.</p>
<p>            Monty settles into the silence. He turns up the radio, shifts down in his seat, and closes his eyes. The movement of the car does nothing for his stomach but blaming Percy’s driving for his nausea isn’t likely to get him anywhere right now.</p>
<p>            After a handful of minutes – or maybe an hour, Monty may have fallen asleep – Percy says, “Why would you say that?”</p>
<p>            “Say what?” Monty wonders if he talks in his sleep. It would explain why Percy’s always pissed at him.</p>
<p>            “That we… you know.”</p>
<p>            Monty blinks a few times to reboot his brain. Percy’s train of thought careened off the tracks when they got to his mother’s house and he has yet to steer it back on. Monty struggles to figure out what exactly their current argument is about. He feels more married to Percy by the second.</p>
<p>            As Monty pinches the bridge of his nose, Percy prompts, “About me. The real me. Not fake husband me.”</p>
<p>            “That’s not helping.” Monty closes his eyes. The sun does not help. “They were bombarding me with questions about our argument. Wanted to know why we kept talking about Percy. You. Whatever.”</p>
<p>            “So you told them we slept together?”</p>
<p>            “I don’t see why you care,” Monty snaps. “They don’t even know you.”</p>
<p>            Percy flinches like Monty slapped him. He shuts his mouth around whatever retort he had on his tongue. After a beat of silence, he says, “And now they never will.”</p>
<p>            Monty shakes his head. It is too early in the morning and he is far too sober for this conversation. A million questions burst into his head. He stomps down on all of them. He asked Percy for a favour. Percy did him that favour. If Monty had known it would turn into a gigantic bitch fight, he never would have asked.</p>
<p>            “Whatever.” Percy sighs and turns up the radio even more.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monty spends the rest of the week either drunk or at work. He pulls around carts for the club’s members, washes golf clubs, and nods along to instructions he won’t follow. He doesn’t do it because he’s bad at his job. He does it because all the members think they know his job better than he does. They don’t but he nods all the same. Years of customer service have successfully managed to make him down right congenial in the worst of circumstances – as long as he gets paid for it.</p>
<p>            On Friday, he drives to the liquor store to replenish his bottles. The cashier makes a comment about a party and Monty readily agrees even though he has no such plans. If he feels up to it, he’ll share a bottle with Percy. Not that he’s seen Percy in a while. He can’t tell if Percy’s avoiding him or if this is the natural consequence of sleeping past noon and having shifts after Percy’s classes.</p>
<p>            When he gets home, he opens a bottle of red wine and pours himself a generous glass. As he swirls the wine, he considers putting the alcohol away but why make trouble for his future self? He checks the clock. Percy should be home soon so he turns the TV to the history channel, knowing it will entice Percy to stay if he is avoiding him, and slumps down on the couch.</p>
<p>            Hours pass. Monty kills the bottle and opens another. He keeps the history channel on. Monty is well drunk and the sun has set by the time he hears the door open. He says, “What do aliens have to do with history?”</p>
<p>            Percy hums a noncommittal response as his keys drop on the counter.</p>
<p>            “Like, do they play this shit for fun? Or is it history to speculate that aliens built shit?” Monty pours the last of his glass down his gullet and then attempts to sit up. The room spins as he squints back at Percy who looks, for maybe the first time, like a weary college student. His hair is fully out of its tie, dark and puffed up around his face. He wears a ratty hoodie and yawns into the crook of his elbow.</p>
<p>            “You alright, mate?” Monty asks.</p>
<p>            “Are you on your third bottle already?”</p>
<p>            Monty blinks. He tries to count, loses it too fast, and then says, “No.”</p>
<p>            Percy holds up two empty bottles.</p>
<p>            “Maybe.” Monty paddles the back of the couch with both hands. “Sit down with me, Perce. I feel like we’ve barely seen each other this week.”</p>
<p>            Percy gives him a look like maybe that’s the point and Monty feels pain flare hot and bright in his chest. He reaches for the wine to dull his senses – third bottle or not, it’s not working – but Percy snatches it from his fingertips as he passes. He slumps down in the armchair beside the couch, as far from Monty as he can go without sitting at the kitchen table. He takes a swig from the bottle.</p>
<p>            Monty blinks at him. “Perce—”</p>
<p>            “The history channel shows a lot of bullshit,” he says. He grabs the remote and changes channels until he lands on a movie with a lot of explosions. Monty flinches at the increased sound and motions for Percy to turn it down. Percy just throws the remote onto the coffee table.</p>
<p>            Monty doesn’t trust himself to shift three inches to grab the remote. Maybe he has had enough to drink even if the alcohol has done nothing to dull the pain of Percy sitting so far away. He feels the space between them as acutely as the explosions that rattle his brain around his skull. A sharp pain has taken up residence in his chest and, somehow, two and a half bottles of wine has yet to clear it up. Monty touches his chest experimentally, wondering if he’s actually stabbed himself but no. The wine’s just not helping.</p>
<p>            He considers looking for the hard liquor but Percy probably hid it before he came for the wine. Monty glances at Percy, who sits with his legs spread, half on the chair and half on the floor. He’s never seen Percy so casual. It makes him want to crawl into his lap, lay his head back against his chest, and close his eyes. Or maybe get on his knees and lean into the space Percy has so willingly provided for his head. As Monty stares, he leans to the side and ends up lying across the couch, drunkenly looking up at Percy.</p>
<p>            Percy glances at him and flinches. The pain sharpens, then dulls to a pounding. Monty wonders if it’s his heart trying to break his ribs. He knows all he feels for Percy must be written across his face like wedding vows screamed at mass.</p>
<p>            “I don’t want you mad at me,” Monty says before he’s really sure what he’s trying to say. He thinks he makes a decent shape out of the words but Percy makes a face like he’s speaking a foreign language. He tries again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to steal your first kiss.”</p>
<p>            Percy sputters. “You weren’t… I’ve been kissed before, Monty.”</p>
<p>            Monty screws up his face, thinking. He thought he finally figured out why Percy is so mad. “Then…” he trails off. He presses his face into the couch cushions and sighs dramatically.</p>
<p>            Percy laughs. “You should go to bed.”</p>
<p>            “Tell me why you’re mad at me.”</p>
<p>            He sighs. “I’m not mad at you.”</p>
<p>            Monty shakes his head. He knows Percy too well to believe it. He squints hard, trying to see through Percy’s fatigue and into whatever’s bothering him. But Monty’s always been better at hiding himself than finding other people’s hiding places. “Do you not want to be my husband anymore?”</p>
<p>            “I’m not your husband.”</p>
<p>            “This is exactly how Richard dumped me, you know.” Monty rolls to stare at the ceiling. Something about Percy not meeting his eyes makes him want to die just a little more than he usually does. “I was drunk. He came home. Said he couldn’t live like this anymore.”</p>
<p>            “I thought you dumped him.”</p>
<p>            Monty waves a hand in the air. “It was mutual.”</p>
<p>            “Do you miss him?”</p>
<p>            “Miss Richard?” Monty laughs. “We hate Richard fucking Peele.”</p>
<p>            Percy laughs too but the sound is quiet and a little forced. Monty makes himself not look back, not take his eyes off the popcorn ceiling. His heart beats a dull tune in his chest, racing too fast and pumping far too little blood. Monty closes his eyes and tries to listen to Percy’s breathing instead.</p>
<p>            “You had that whole wedding planned in your head,” Percy whispers. It almost sounds like something Monty’s not supposed to hear, so he keeps his eyes closed. “It felt like… like something you’d plan for someone you really loved. And wanted.”</p>
<p>            “I planned it for you.” The words slip out before Monty can stop himself. He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter and doesn’t explain. Can’t explain. He remembers Percy sitting at his side as his mom asked about the wedding and wanting something beautiful for them. Richard and he had a disaster. Not of a wedding, but of a marriage. With Percy, the Percy who marries him in his wildest fantasies, Monty wants more.</p>
<p>            Percy says nothing for a long time. Monty realizes the TV is muted and he opens his eyes again to see the explosions dancing across the screen. His whole body buzzes when he thinks about looking at Percy again, when he thinks about what he’s said and what he’s revealed. But hasn’t he already kissed Percy? Doesn’t Percy already know?</p>
<p>            “I’m going to bed,” Percy says.</p>
<p>            “Can I come with you?” Monty makes the joke because he always does. He already asked his best friend to marry him, kissed him, and then planned a whole wedding. What’s one more innuendo?</p>
<p>            Percy forces a laugh. “Sleep in your own bed for once.”</p>
<p>            Monty gets up the nerve to watch him leave. Percy takes the bottle – most likely to keep it from Monty – and walks slowly. “Percy,” Monty says, so soft he thinks maybe his friend won’t hear. But Percy pauses at his door. “Are we all right?”</p>
<p>            There are a thousand other questions Monty wants to ask. He wants to know why Percy wants to be Richard. He wants to know why he’s not worth the risk. He wants to know why Percy doesn’t want something real. He wants to ask if they’ll ever kiss again. He wants to know when Percy knew he wasn’t straight and if he ever considered Monty an option and why they aren’t in love. He knows he can’t ask the last question, or any of them really, but they’re all on the tip of his tongue, just waiting for one more sip of wine to let them slide out. For tonight, Monty settles on “are we all right” because if he and Percy are never meant to be anything more, he hopes they can be friends.</p>
<p>            Percy tilts his head just enough that Monty can see his smile. It trembles and it’s soft as firefly light, but it’s there. “Yes, Monty. We’re all right.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Monty drinks his way through the weekend and then works through the relentless monotony of the week. Percy comes home more often, but not much, and, with a start, Monty realizes finals must be fast approaching and Percy was never avoiding him. He is both cheered by this realization and devastated by it. At least avoiding him would be some indication Percy cared about the kiss.</p>
<p>            Monty lets them slide back into normalcy. Normalcy being Percy pushing him to go to work and Monty getting too drunk and the two of them spending far too much time on the couch eating takeout.</p>
<p>            Monty wakes at six a.m. on Wednesday for an early shift. He takes a shot before breakfast and wades through his notifications. As he heads out the door, he finds a text from his mother inviting him to the beach house for the weekend.</p>
<p>            Monty glances at Percy’s closed bedroom door but decides against waking him. He tries to convince himself that Percy will be happy to help again, even though he was far from happy the first time. The truth is Monty just wants to pretend again. He wants to be married to Percy for as much imaginary time as possible, wants people to think they’re in love, and wants the reassurance that his mom sees their relationship as Monty wishes it was.</p>
<p>            <strong>Monty: </strong>we’ll be there :)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            “I cannot believe you committed me to this without asking.”</p><p>            “You were asleep,” Monty says as he throws Percy’s swim trunks in a suitcase. He digs into Percy’s dresser drawers, looking through the very few summer clothes Percy owns, and tries to choose the least ugly. “I made an executive decision.”</p><p>            Percy sighs. He sits on the bed, the suitcase perched next to his feet. He could stop this if he wanted to, just shut the suitcase or throw the clothes at Monty. Instead, he sits and scrubs a hand down his face and sighs like a long-suffering wife in an Oscar-bait movie.</p><p>            “You can’t be too mad at me,” Monty continues. “You get to go to the beach.”</p><p>            “As Richard fucking Peele.”</p><p>            Monty smiles and turns with a pair of cargo shorts in his hands. He folds them, just so he can look at Percy’s dejected face for a second. He tosses them on the stack of unfolded, unorganized clothes he’s collected. “Had I asked, you would have said no.”</p><p>            “So you just didn’t ask?”</p><p>            “Exactly.” Monty shrugs.</p><p>            Percy stares at him and the corner of his lips twitches upwards. Monty smiles back and shifts the suitcase out of the way. He sits cross-legged in front of Percy, careful to keep his balance on the edge of the mattress, and takes Percy’s hands in his.</p><p>            “I never asked you properly, you know.”</p><p>            Percy looks at their hands. “Asked me what, properly?”</p><p>            “To marry me.” Monty keeps a tight hold on Percy and watches him for any reaction. Percy flinches and his cheeks redden but he doesn’t pull away. He’s become more confident in the weeks since Percy said they were all right, started to touch him more, flirt more. But Percy, poor Percy, still blushes like a schoolgirl every time he does it. “Would you like me to get down on one knee, darling?”</p><p>            “Fuck off,” Percy whispers.</p><p>            Monty tilts Percy’s chin up and looks Percy in the eye. He hesitates, feels the desire to kiss him. But, even though their friendship has no boundaries, Percy has made it clear that kissing is off the table. “Please,” Monty says. “I know you hate lying to my family and being Richard. My mom is fragile. She wants to know I’m happy. You make me happy.”</p><p>            Percy makes a sound like he’s swallowed his tongue.</p><p>            Monty loosens his grip enough that Percy slips his hands free.</p><p>            Percy gets up, coughing, and opens his closet to collect shirts. Monty slips off the bed and goes back to kneeling in front of the dresser. Butterflies flap through his stomach and he feels dizzy. But he swallows down their wings and makes a valiant effort to sort through the rest of Percy’s clothes in comfortable silence.</p><p> </p><p>The drive goes off without a hitch. Monty enters the house with much fanfare and his mom rushes to hug him. He wrestles Felicity into a hug too, even as she pushes him off. Percy trails behind him with the bags, makes his quiet greetings, and then asks where he can put everything. Monty follows his mom into the living room while Felicity shows Percy the room.</p><p>            “You’re doing better?” his mom asks.</p><p>            “Splendidly.” Monty hopes it’s true. He feels like Percy and he are back to normal except that their one kiss sits between them like an invisible wall. It stops Monty from looking at his lips too long. He swears it must be the reason why Percy keeps blushing whenever he throws a line his way. Monty shakes off the unease and smiles at his mom. “It’s a lovely house.”</p><p>            “Thank you. Your father bought it a year ago and he’s never been, so…” She shrugs. “It’s mine now.”</p><p>            Monty nods as he looks around. The house is the opposite of his father’s taste. The walls are robin’s egg blue and the floors are beige tile. Large windows cover every outside wall, letting in the sun and displaying the sprawling white sand beach. Waves crash against the shore. The water glistens blue in the sunlight. Monty takes a deep breath and sighs it out.</p><p>            Percy returns and Monty wraps an arm around his waist. Percy barely reacts as the four of them fall into casual conversation. The TV is turned on and they all collapse onto chairs. Monty pulls Percy onto an armchair with him, even though it’s far too small for the both of them and Percy is far too large to be on top of him. Percy laughs and pushes himself up. He perches on the armrest and lets Monty tangle their fingers together.</p><p>            Late in the afternoon, Percy and his mom go down to the beach. Monty begs off, already desperate for a chance to dig into his alcohol stash. That and he’s never taken his shirt off in front of Percy before. Never really had a reason to. And he sleeps in a t-shirt anyways. Percy knows the whole story but Monty’s been with enough people to know there is a big difference between knowing the facts and seeing them laid out on his skin.</p><p>            Monty sighs as he goes to their bedroom and digs the suitcase out from under the bed. He sits down on the tile floor which is cool against his burning skin, and takes out a bottle of whiskey. He unscrews the top and swigs.</p><p>            Felicity stops in the doorway with her arms crossed. “Really?”</p><p>            “Really?” Monty mocks. He waves her away. “Go stick your nose in somebody else’s business.”</p><p>            She does not heed his advice. Instead, she steps into the room and takes a seat on the bed. Her feet dangle dangerously close to his head and Monty shifts out of their way. Out of habit, he offers her the bottle. She takes it but doesn’t drink.</p><p>            “Richard seems nice.”</p><p>            “He is.” Monty reaches for the bottle.</p><p>            She moves it out of his reach. “Just really sweet with mom,” she continues, as if he’s said nothing, “and so interested in medicine and gardening and, really, anything you bring up. He’s completely out of your league.”</p><p>            Monty hums his agreement and digs another bottle out of his bag. This one he keeps out of Felicity’s reach.</p><p>            “And he really doesn’t seem the type to get married on a whim, does he? Very level-headed.”</p><p>            “Who says we got married on a whim?”</p><p>            “Your letter did.” She looks down at him imperiously. “You wrote to dad telling him that you’d found a man you loved and you knew it was fast but the two of you were getting married and wouldn’t that just tickle him pink? You, married to someone you’ve only known for three months?”</p><p>            Monty freezes with the bottle halfway to his lips. He doesn’t remember much of that letter – he was pretty deep in the drink when he wrote it – but he knows Percy and he don’t act like two people who barely know each other. “What’s your point?” he says, fighting to sound casual.</p><p>            “Just seemed strange that Richard would agree to that.” She finally takes a swig of whiskey and screws up her face. She coughs. “You drink this swill?”</p><p>            “Give it back then.”</p><p>            She shakes her head.</p><p>            Monty sighs and leans back against the bed. From here, he can hear the waves hitting the shore. Somewhere on the beach a child laughs.</p><p>            “Did you know that the Royal Bank of Scotland has pictures of its board members on the website?”</p><p>            His heart sinks. “So?”</p><p>            “So, your husband’s father is white.”</p><p>            “I thought you knew how genetics worked, but if you would like a lesson—”</p><p>            “And his son is senior staff. His picture is there too.”</p><p>            Monty looks up at her. His horror must show but she looks down with dead calm and soft curiosity. Monty can hear his heartbeat, feel the blood racing through his veins. He scrambles to his feet and faces Felicity. “Look—”</p><p>            “He’s Percy, isn’t he?”</p><p>            “Felicity—”</p><p>            “What the fuck is wrong with you, Monty?”</p><p>            Monty has no response to that. He wonders it himself, all the time. And with Felicity’s eyes burning holes into him, he has no response. His fingers grip the top of the bottle and he feels his throat burn with want. But he needs his wits about him for whatever the hell this is.</p><p>            “Don’t tell mom.”</p><p>            Felicity’s face falls. Her curiosity and judgement give way to something sadder – a disappointment he recognizes like a punch in the stomach. “I don’t know, Monty.” She stands. “She should know.”</p><p>            He grabs her arm. “She doesn’t have to.” Felicity shakes him off and he raises his hands in surrender. “Felicity, it would kill her.”</p><p>            Felicity looks up at him, her eyes wide and sad, but her expression set. “You should have thought of that before, don’t you think?” She slams the door as she leaves, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.</p><p>            Monty stares at the closed door and, slowly, sinks back to the ground. He brings the bottle to his lips and takes a long drink, like a shipwrecked man desperate for water.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monty stays in the room until Percy comes back from the beach. Percy looks at him sprawled across the bed, then at the half-empty bottle, and disappointment floods his features. Monty wonders why he’s always such a disappointment.</p><p>            “Felicity knows,” Monty says. “She knows.”</p><p>            Percy freezes. He shuts the door behind him and leans back against it. “Okay… so…” His searching eyes meet Monty’s and Monty shrugs. “Should we just tell your mom?”</p><p>            “Fuck no.” Monty rolls over which rolls his stomach and his skull, and he groans as he comes upright closer to Percy. He forces himself to sit up at the end of the bed and immediately regrets it as the room spins. “We have to stop Felicity from telling her.”</p><p>            Percy sighs. “Why?”</p><p>            “Because!” Monty looks up at him and his vision blurs. He can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or tears until Percy’s expression changes from fatigue to worry. Monty sniffles. “She just… can’t know. It would break her heart. Or… she would hate me.”</p><p>            “She would understand.” Percy moves closer but hesitates after a single step. “Why are you so afraid of her?”</p><p>            “When has she ever done anything to prove I shouldn’t be afraid of her?” Monty snaps. “When have either of my parents done anything to prove they care more about me than they care about my life or my accomplishments or my schooling or… fuck.” Monty buries his face in his hands as tears slip down his cheeks. He doesn’t want to cry right now. He just wants Percy to agree with him so they can come up with a plan to stop Felicity. He brushes away the tears as fast as he can. “She can’t know. She can’t.”</p><p>            Percy stands frozen in the middle of the room. He hugs his arms to himself. “I thought… you said it was only your dad.”</p><p>            Monty nods.</p><p>            “Was that not true?”</p><p>            “She never hit me.” Monty swallows hard. He looks down at his feet, unable to meet Percy’s concern. He hates it. He almost hates Percy for voicing it. “But she… she knew.”</p><p>            Silence floods the room.</p><p>            “We just have to stop Felicity, okay?”</p><p>            “Okay.” Percy perches himself on the bed beside Monty. Monty can see his thigh and his feet and he doesn’t look up. After a moment, Percy says, “I don’t think she would hate you. And I don’t think she would think any less of you if you told her.”</p><p>            Monty shakes his head.</p><p>            “Monty. She loves you.”</p><p>            “She doesn’t. She loves her happy son. Her non-screw-up son. The boy who doesn’t get drunk every single goddamn night.” Monty swallows hard and sniffles again. One last tear escapes and he lets it fall as he looks up at Percy. “I just want one person to love me. Just one.”</p><p>            This close, Monty can see every freckle on Percy’s dark skin. He can see the tears pooled in Percy’s eyes. A curl slips loose and hangs over Percy’s forehead, brushing his thick eyebrows. Monty tucks it back, his fingers brushing Percy’s sand-softened skin. He lets his hand linger as it falls down Percy’s cheek, his neck, and, finally, back into his own lap.</p><p>            “You don’t need to lie for someone to love you,” Percy says.</p><p>            Monty forces a laugh. “Who would love me without the lie?”</p><p>            Percy hesitates. His mouth opens but the words don’t come out. His eyes flicker down to Monty’s lips, then back to his eyes, and he swallows whatever fear has suddenly overcome him. “I do,” he says.</p><p>            Monty shakes his head with a fond smile. “That’s not what I mean, Perce.”</p><p>            “I know what you mean.”</p><p>            Monty’s smile broadens. He takes Percy’s hand in his. “You’re very sweet, Perce, but we both know—”</p><p>            “Would you shut up? I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you.”</p><p>            Monty freezes. His smile falls and he pulls his hand away. He shakes his head. “You don’t—”</p><p>            “Why do you think I went along with this ridiculous plan? Why do you think I’m willing to come to this beach house and pretend to be married and hang out with your family? Why do you think I would do this thing that is killing me if I wasn’t in love with you?”</p><p>            “You didn’t even want to kiss me!”</p><p>            “I didn’t want to kiss you for a laugh, Monty.”</p><p>            Monty stares at him. He can see the earnestness in Percy’s expression, hear the desperation in his words. Part of Monty still doesn’t believe him, the part of him that’s broken beyond all repairs. But his heart flutters at the possibility – the possibility that Percy, being the idiot he is, thinks not being <em>Richard</em> means not being <em>serious</em> – and fills near bursting.</p><p>            Monty kisses him.</p><p>            When Percy pushes him away, Monty almost falls off the bed.</p><p>            “I thought—” he says.</p><p>            “I’m not in this for a one-night thing.” Percy sounds sad and Monty doesn’t understand. “I get it if you don’t want that or if you don’t love me. I just… I wanted you to know that someone loves you, unconditionally.”</p><p>            As Percy stands, Monty realizes the problem. His drunken brain takes a second to make his tongue move and Percy is almost at the door by the time Monty says, “I love you, too.”</p><p>            Percy freezes.</p><p>            “Percy, I… I’ve always loved you. I never wanted Richard.” Monty doesn’t trust himself to stand, so he just waits. “Certainly, you knew.”</p><p>            Percy turns, relief flooding his feature. “How would I have known?”</p><p>            “I don’t know. How about the hundred thousands of times I’ve fallen into your bed? Or maybe the way I follow you around like a lost fucking puppy? How many pick-up lines does a guy have to drop to get you into bed?”</p><p>            Percy laughs.</p><p>            Monty smiles fondly at him. “You really don’t think she’ll mind?”</p><p>            Percy shakes his head. He pushes back Monty’s hair and cups his face in his hands. “Worst case scenario, we just get married and tell her I changed my name.” Monty laughs as Percy leans in to kiss him. As their lips meet, there is suddenly nothing left to laugh about.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monty wakes with his head on Percy’s chest and it takes him a full minute to realize he’s allowed to be there. He splays his fingers across Percy’s chest and starts to draw lines between his freckles. Percy wakes with a tired giggle. He takes Monty’s hand in his and kisses his knuckles. Monty melts into the sheets, sure he’ll die here.</p><p>            “Good morning,” Percy says.</p><p>            “Good morning.” Monty closes his eyes again. He wants to relish this feeling, this moment, when everything is right with the world, when the real world is his fantasy world and vice versa.</p><p>            Percy kisses the top of his head. “We still have to deal with Felicity.”</p><p>            Monty groans. “We can’t just ignore that?”</p><p>            “We can… not sure what that would accomplish, but it’s possible.”</p><p>            Monty presses his lips to Percy’s sternum. His skin is warm and Monty wants to bury himself in Percy’s arms. If he never left this bed, he would be content to die right here, as long as Percy didn’t move either. Last night was chaste but Monty couldn’t care less. He would be celibate if it meant Percy kissing him.</p><p>            Pans clatter in the kitchen. Birds chirp outside. If Monty strains, he can hear the waves crashing against the sand. Above it all, he listens to Percy breathe, deep and steady. Then, Percy’s stomach grumbles.</p><p>            Monty laughs. “I guess we need to eat.”</p><p>            “I guess.” Percy’s fingers card through Monty’s hair.</p><p>            Monty can’t imagine being the first to move. “Five more minutes,” he says in a tone he hopes sounds authoritative.</p><p>            Percy hums in response. “Five more minutes,” he agrees as he lays a kiss on the top of Monty’s head.</p><p> </p><p>They enter the kitchen hand in hand. Monty’s hand sweats and his stomach rolls at the scent of bacon. He feels oddly like a teenager introducing his prom date to his mom. But she just smiles when she sees them, asks after their sleep, and offers plates heaped high with pancakes, syrup, whipped cream, and strawberries.</p><p>            Percy starts forward but Monty pulls him back to his side. Percy eyes him curiously. So, yeah, they never got around to figuring out a plan. But Monty needs <em>Percy</em> by his side, not fake Richard. He swallows hard and says, “Mom. We have something to tell you.”</p><p>            Felicity looks up from her book and dog-ears the page with a nimble finger.</p><p>            “I… umm…” Monty feels panic rise in his throat like a vice. He fiddles with the collar of his nightshirt to get more room to breathe. “Mom. This isn’t…” He looks at Percy who smiles encouragingly.</p><p>            “What is it dear?” his mom asks, worried.</p><p>            “Umm…” Monty looks at the scene of perfect domestic bliss before him – his mom in an apron, flour dusting her cheeks, framed perfectly by the blue walls and the yellow cabinets; Felicity perched on a stool, reading out of some medical textbook, half her pancakes finished; the two large plates on the island, waiting for him and his husband. “Richard’s decided to go by his middle name from now on. Percy.”</p><p>            Percy blinks a few times but recovers beautifully.</p><p>            His mom stares at him. “Okay.”</p><p>            “His middle name is <em>Percy</em>?” Felicity says after a weighted second. Her dark eyes bore into him. “Really, Monty? Same as your college roommate?”</p><p>            Monty glares back at her.</p><p>            “Funny story,” Percy says, all smiles as he takes a seat at the counter, “that’s actually how I met Monty’s roommate. The prof called for Percy and I, being used to my middle name, responded at the same time as him.”</p><p>            Monty stares at the back of Percy’s head. He can’t believe how well he’s taking this epic slip-up. Yes, it was his suggestion, but Monty is pretty sure he was joking. Monty slips onto the stool beside Percy and digs into the pile of pancakes. Guilt weighs heavily in his stomach. The pancakes only add to the weight.</p><p>            “Sorry, no. I lied.” Monty drops his fork with a clatter. Everyone looks at him. Percy places a hand on his thigh and squeezes and Monty’s not sure what that means. Is it a <em>you don’t have to do this </em>squeeze or an <em>I’m here for you </em>squeeze? He needs to spend more time learning what Percy’s hands can do.</p><p>            “About?” his mom prompts. She has her back to them as she fills the sink with soapy water.</p><p>            “Percy’s… Percy.”</p><p>            Felicity snorts.</p><p>            “I mean. Look. Richard and I broke up.”</p><p>            His mom spins around, her eyes wide with panic. “What?”</p><p>            “No, wait. This isn’t… This is Percy.”</p><p>            Percy waves unhelpfully.</p><p>            “Not Richard. You’ve never met Richard. We were divorced before you texted and I asked Percy, my roommate, to fill in with him. And now I’m married to Percy.”</p><p>            “You married him?” Felicity asks. “What part of this bone-headed plan required an actual marriage certificate?”</p><p>            “Uhh, no.” Monty shakes his head. “We’re getting married. We’re in love. That’s all.”</p><p>            Everyone stares at him.</p><p>            Percy whispers, “We haven’t discussed—”</p><p>            “Oh,” Monty says. He meets Percy’s eyes and feels his cheeks heat up. The blush is matched on Percy’s dark skin. “No. I mean. I just assumed… I want to marry you. Will you marry me?”</p><p>            Percy opens his mouth and then glances at the kitchen, his shocked family, the mess of pancakes on the table. “Yes,” he says with a bit of a laugh.</p><p>            Monty kisses him. He can’t help it. Everything about Percy is so kissable.</p><p>            Percy laughs his way through the kiss before gently extracting himself and turning to face the family. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “It was… an odd thing to do, to pretend to be married to… trick you, I suppose. But it was all in good faith. I hope you don’t think any less of me.”</p><p>            Monty’s mom looks from Percy to her son. Her mouth hangs open and her eyes are wide. After a full minute, she closes her mouth and wrings the towel in her hands. “I guess I just… I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me in the first place.”</p><p>            Monty hesitates but then reaches his hand across the counter, palm up. “I didn’t want to be a disappointment.”</p><p>            “Oh, honey.” She takes his hand and squeezes tightly. “You don’t disappoint me. I love you.”</p><p>            Monty feels tears in his eyes and blinks them back. But his mom’s eyes sparkle too and soon their hands are slipping out of each other’s grips to wipe at their eyes. Percy pulls Monty close and kisses his cheek. Water splashes in the sink.</p><p>            Monty feels a weight lift off his shoulders as he sits in front of his rapidly cooling breakfast with his fiancé at his side, surrounded by family.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monty slowly sobers. First for Percy – forgetting even a single second of kissing him feels like the deepest blasphemy – and then for himself. Monty picks up the business books his father once forced him to study and finds the interest that never sparked before. As Percy finishes college, Monty starts all over again.</p><p>            They’re not the most in-sync couple ever. But they’re happy. All of Monty’s stuff moves to Percy’s room and his room converts to an office. They’re not rich but they keep their heads above water. His mom sends them care packages full of food, as if they’re not fully functioning adult men. (And they’re not, not that Percy will admit it.)</p><p>            Their wedding takes place on a boat Percy’s uncle bought for show. It’s a small yacht garlanded with flowers. Champagne bottles float from table to table but Monty, his eyes only for Percy, barely notices the alcohol flowing. He keeps smiling like an idiot, so much that even Felicity takes her nose out of a book long enough to comment on it, and he manages to kiss her cheek before she fights him off. Percy smiles back at him, all cordial on the outside and giddy on the inside. Monty can read him like the back of his hand.</p><p>            They go to a hotel on their wedding night and flop down on the big bed side by side. Percy turns his head towards Monty and pushes his hair back from his face. Monty’s no longer nervous about taking his shirt off. The first time he did, Percy kissed every scar until he fell asleep just above his bellybutton.</p><p>            “Congratulations, Mr. Newton,” Percy whispers.</p><p>            “Congratulations, Mr. Montague,” Monty replies. And then, before he can help himself, he adds, “Richard Montague.”</p><p>            Percy slaps him across the face with a pillow and Monty bursts into laughter.</p>
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